Major Wyclyff's Campaign (A Lady's Lessons, Book 2) (34 page)

"Now."

It was the signal, and Sophia tensed to run. Returning with a quickness that belied any injury, Anthony grabbed her hand and neatly swept her down the hallway. She had only a split-second to glance behind her and see that the others followed. Unfortunately, it was clear Melissa could not move very quickly. Sophia was about to say something when she watched Reg lean over and lift her into his arms.

The woman began to object, but Reg just shook his head. "You are not heavy," he said in clipped tones; then his whole attention was fixed on moving forward. Just as they reached the staircase, a maid stepped out into the hallway. She was a large woman with thick arms, and she gasped when she saw them. Sophia half-expected her to draw back into the staircase in fear.

Unfortunately, she did not. Instead, she bellowed in a voice that carried clearly through the house: "Right 'ere, Mr. Sween!"

Sophia heard Anthony's rough curse, and she heartily seconded the thought. Especially as she looked down the staircase and saw Mr. Sween come tearing out of the front parlor, a pistol in hand. He spotted them immediately. Worse, he saw Melissa as well, and his face contorted with fury.

Sophia lost track of events and everything became a blur. All four of her group of escapees picked up speed, dashing down the stairs and out the door. Reginald and Melissa ducked quickly into the western trees, while to the east, Anthony slowed their progress. Then, as soon as the other two had disappeared, he bellowed in fury purposely ran into a bush, breaking several branches as he moved. Sophia remained directly behind him, her hand held in his iron grip. He kicked up some gravel as Mr. Sween appeared from the house, then shouted a curse as two footmen followed.

It worked. Mr. Sween and his cronies cursed back in loud roars, not even looking west as they tore after Anthony and herself.

Suddenly, it was as if her feet had wings. Together, she and Anthony practically flew past the formal gardens and into the surrounding woods, quickly ducking in and around the trees. Despite the cramp in her side and her improper shoes, they did not stop for what seemed a dozen miles. Then, it was only to slow down to a steady walk. Anthony helped her along while she pressed her palm hard into her side against the cramp.

It was some time later before she found the breath to speak. It was even later before she dared voice her fear.

"Anthony, do you know where we are?" She was completely lost. The seemingly endless wood seemed all the same to her. For all she knew, they could be going in circles.

Thankfully, Anthony nodded and pointed. "The village is about two miles that way."

She looked nervously behind her. "Do you think they will follow us?"

Anthony shifted awkwardly as he glanced behind him. "I think we lost them. But we should keep going just in case."

"I assure you," she said dryly, "I have no intention of stopping until I am safely inside my aunt's house. Then, I firmly intend to have strong hysterics."

He smiled at her, and she felt some of her fear slip away at the sight. "You won't be able to match Miss Smyth's performance."

"You may eat those words," she said dryly. It was only now that some of the reality of what they had just done began to hit her. "Mr. Sween had a pistol."

Beside her, Anthony nodded grimly, but his grip was gentle as he helped her over a fallen log. "He is gone now."

She nodded, but her thoughts returned to their narrow escape. "What about Reginald and Melissa?" she asked. "Do you think they are all right?"

Anthony's face was expressionless as he spoke, but his tone held a wealth of something she did not understand. "Lord Kyle is a resourceful man—much more than I gave him credit for. I am sure he will keep his lady safe."

Sophia smiled wistfully as she remembered the rapt expression on Reginald's face. She had never seen him look so passionate, even when discussing clothing. Yes, Reg would keep Melissa safe.

"They make a nice couple," she said softly.

"Then, you do not mind?" His surprise was poorly masked.

"Mind?" she asked. "Mind what?"

"That he is in love with her." Anthony spoke stiffly, as if he was trying to shield her, and Sophia could not help but smile at his concern.

"I am ecstatic that they have found one another. Reginald needs someone to love."

Anthony opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, he stepped in a gopher hole and his foot turned beneath him. He stumbled, barely catching himself before cracking his head on a tree.

Sophia was beside him in an instant. "Oh, my," she moaned softly, "your leg. You should have traveled in the carriage with the others." She offered him her hand, but he shrugged it off, his expression stony.

"I am certainly capable of a walk in the country."

"Don't be silly; this is more than a walk, Anthony. We have just run for miles, and there are yet two more ahead of us." When would men use the brains God gave them? Couldn't he see how much he was asking of himself?

Rather than reassure her about his health, he simply turned his eyes away. "Never fear," he said, his voice gruff, "I will be able to keep pace with you."

"I did not ask you if you could keep pace with me!" she snapped. "I wished to know if your leg pains you." She had not intended to speak so curtly, but she was beginning to feel the strain of the last few hours.

Anthony squared his shoulders, but he did not comment. She could see she had hurt his pride, and suddenly her patience with him wore out.

"Major Anthony Wyclyff! From all you've ever told me, you would not have made a wounded man under your command go on a forced march, so why should you be so cruel to yourself? Good Lord," she cried to the skies, "save me from men and their pride." Then she turned to face him directly. "It is a hurt leg, Anthony. Nothing more. You are more of a man than I have ever met, but even you have limitations. And if you injure yourself, do not think I will sit by your bedside crying and praying that you survive. I do not intend to go through that again!"

With that she stomped off, her head held high as she tried to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks.

She felt the major's gaze on her as she walked, but she did not care. She could not care, or she might wonder just what she had revealed with her impetuous statement. She was only just realizing how difficult those days had been for her. Even sick, Anthony had been a powerful draw for her. She had wondered each day as she walked into the hospital if he would be lucid or delirious, prayed nightly that he would hold on for one more day, one more visit when she could sit beside his bed and hold his hand and pray some more.

She must have loved him even then. Their visits together at the beginning, before the fever took hold, were clearly stamped in her mind as the most memorable, most wonderful of all her days in London. He had made her smile and laugh and wish she were a nurse just so she could remain by his side a little longer.

And then his fever had climbed, and in a month, they'd told her he died.

"Well, well, look what I found," purred Mr. Sween from directly beside her.

Sophia was caught completely by surprise. One second she was moving away from the major, desperately trying to control her emotions, then a second later, she was trapped against Mr. Sween, his arm around her throat, his pistol pressed to her temple. She barely had time to gasp before the hideous man tightened his hold, constricting her throat so that it took all her energy just to breathe.

Choking, she looked at Anthony, seeking reassurance, strength, anything that would calm the panic clamoring within her, but he had turned away. His stance, normally so straight and correct, sagged as he leaned against a tree trunk.

And if the effect of their fight weren't terrible enough, on the opposite side of the tree, a huge bear of a man—Sween's henchman—eased forward, a heavy club poised in his thick hand. Clearly he was heading for Anthony, creeping along right where Anthony could not see him. And the brute would be upon him in seconds.

Sophia would have cried out. She did struggle, desperately clawing at the arm around her throat, doing her best to draw enough breath to scream in warning, but she couldn't. All she managed was a high wheeze—and the certain knowledge that her struggles were only making things worse. Mr. Sween tightened his hold enough to make dark spots appear in her vision, and she was becoming distinctly light-headed.

In the end, the powerful Sween won out. She ceased fighting, choosing to remain conscious rather than be suffocated because of her struggling. All the while, the other brute crept closer and closer to Anthony, his huge club poised to deliver a killing blow.

Tears burned in her eyes. Was she doomed to always watch helplessly while Anthony died?

Then the beastly man was beside Anthony, bringing down his club with enough force to shatter a skull. Except Anthony wasn't there. Swifter than she thought possible, he had dipped around the tree, coming up behind his assailant. And while the brute was off balance from his swing, Anthony delivered powerful blows to the man's torso.

At first, they didn't appear to have any effect. With an angry roar, the man straightened, brandishing his club once again, but before he could strike, Anthony landed two more blows, this time to the brute's face. A third sunk deep into the man's belly, and with a startled grunt, the ogre fell.

Anthony straightened, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "It appears, Mr. Sween, your henchman isn't as well trained as you thought." His expression darkened. "Now, kindly release Lady Sophia and run as far from England as you can. I assure you, your employer will be doing the same very, very soon."

For a moment, Sophia thought they had won. Mr. Sween appeared stunned, worried enough that his hold on her throat had slackened, allowing her breath once more. But within moments of Anthony's statement, her captor suddenly redoubled his restraint, dragging her against him and pressing his pistol even harder against her forehead.

"Oh, I don't think all is lost yet," the man sneered. "After all, I have Lady Sophia at my mercy. Now, you shall tell me exactly where Melissa is or I shall be forced to do unimaginable harm to this delicate creature."

Sophia tensed, unsure what Anthony's reaction would be to such a threat. She imagined all sorts of terrible things, all of them ending with a bullet in her head. Anthony was fast, but even he could not bridge the distance to Mr. Sween before the hateful man pulled the trigger.

She closed her eyes, envisioning the worst, but then she heard the strangest sound—laughter. Her eyes flew open, only to see what her mind flatly refused to believe. Anthony was laughing—a full, derisive, belly-holding laugh.

Mr. Sween, it appeared, was as startled as she, his grip once again loosening on her, allowing her to take a few normal breaths. All the while, Anthony was holding his sides, laughing for all he was worth.

"Good God, Mr. Sween," Anthony chortled. "You are a fool. What do you suppose the lady and I were quarreling about?" When the villain had no answer, Anthony continued, his tone mocking. "She thought I cared for her." Again came the derisive laughter. "I ask you, Mr. Sween, what use have I for an aged, penniless spinster? Go ahead." He waved a mocking hand at them. "Use her. Kill her. Do whatever you will. I doubt anyone save her aunt will even notice." Then he straightened, a strange look on his face. "Except, of course, that whatever you do to her is yet one more nail in your coffin when you and Lord Blakesly are held up before a magistrate. For you only have that one pistol, and I shall kill you the moment you fire it."

Sophia stared at Anthony, her blood running cold. At last it had happened. The man she loved was loudly disavowing any interest in her, abandoning her to her fate as she always knew he would. She stood stock still, waiting for the chilling ice to take hold of her soul, freezing out the pain of his betrayal along with every other emotion she could possibly feel.

She waited, and yet it did not come. Because she did not for one moment believe Anthony meant what he said. He would never betray her, she realized, and never abandon her. She knew it as deeply as she knew that she loved him, and together, they would certainly find a way out of this mess. This was simply a ruse.

Indeed, she now understood it was her turn to add to this little scene. Stiffening in mock outrage, she lunged, not at Mr. Sween as he no doubt expected, but at Anthony, screeching as if she were a betrayed lover. She didn't really know what she was saying, except that she called Anthony every foul name imaginable.

As soon as Mr. Sween recognized that he was restraining her from attacking Anthony, his hold slackened even further. And in that moment of confusion, Sophia turned. Twisting as best she could, she clenched her fist and swung, burying it deep into Mr. Sween's belly, just as she had seen Anthony do to the other brute.

His foul breath exploded out of him, and in that moment, Sophia dropped, well aware that the man's pistol was still aimed directly at her head. Fortunately, Anthony had seized the opportunity as well, rushing forward the moment she began her attack. As Sophia fell to the ground, Anthony grabbed her attacker's gun hand, twisting it in his powerful grip.

The gun went off, but the ball flew upwards, harmlessly crackling into the trees. Then Anthony fell on Sween, raining blows on him faster than Sophia could see. The hideous Sween could not muster a defense and soon lay unconscious, stretched out beside his fallen henchman.